


We could do better, I'm quite sure

by transiock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Pre-Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, but sherlock's soft, i dont know how to tag this, it's sad but not really, kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 04:44:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11707071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transiock/pseuds/transiock
Summary: Sherlock's back exactly where he's wanted to be the past two years. Finally.





	We could do better, I'm quite sure

Two years.   
Two long fucking years.   
Everything had (Mostly) gone to plan. Sherlock was back in London, breathing in the city. He stepped into various shops, watching as everyone walked around, like ants in an enclosure. Not the most original thought he had.   
He rode around in a cab just to get the feeling of London back under his skin. He needed it after all this time. He felt too loose, too detached from what was once his whole world.   
Flashbacks ran through his mind as he drifted through the city. Adventures and memories sprang back to him in full color. Even the cab driver served as a reminder of what was now considered his past life.   
All his old spots, hideouts, people, all of them were the same. It's not like he expected England to fall while he was away, but _nothing_ had changed.   
The cabbie asked where exactly he was going and before he knew it he was back at Baker Street, where the memories were the loudest.   
He had walked this path a million times before, yet the sidewalk felt odd under his feet. He tested the door.   
_Unlocked._  
He stepped in. For a moment he didn't know what to do. Should he go upstairs and risk John finding him? Go farther in and risk Mrs. Hudson finding him? Or stay right there, frozen.   
It felt like he shouldn't have even been there. His feet didn’t land right, the dust around him didn't settle right.   
He decided to go upstairs. John seeing him wasn't the worst thing.   
His fingers dragged along the railing, the dust sticking to his hands. He didn't bother to wipe it off.   
A part of him wanted John to be there. Sitting in his chair, grumbling over today's paper. His face would light up as he saw Sherlock, so ready to tell him the most recent thing the tabloids have said about him.   
He wanted to walk in and for everything to go back to normal. It would be so much easier.   
But John's chair was empty. Tragically so.   
He floated through the room, like a ghost. His fingers couldn't even touch anything. The only evidence that he was there was the stalled breaths, scattering the dust into the rare rays of sun pushing their way between the curtains.   
The kitchen table was messy, overflowing with half finished experiments. Sherlock could sit and pick up where he left off. He wondered what John would say if he came home and Sherlock was back at the table, focused on something John didn’t care to understand. He wondered if he would think it was real, or if he would be convinced he, himself, was dead, or possibly hallucinating.   
Sherlock spun around, all the paths John took across the flat running through his head, So vivid he could reach out and touch them, see a raised eyebrow, small smile. He only ever smiled like that for Sherlock. Like everything had come together.   
It brought his own smile to Sherlock's face. A silly little thing, made him feel like a teenager again.   
He knew it wasn't real. John wasn't there. John thought he was dead.   
He exhaled.   
It wasn't real, but it was the closest Sherlock had been in years.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read this and given me feedback. This is the first fic I've finished in a long while, guess it's my return to this whole thing. Feel free to leave comments and kudos.  
> Much love -O


End file.
